CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sergei opened his eyes, and quickly raised his hands to cover them, as they burned from the light. He struggled to see where he was.

He was lying in mud, on a steep slope on the bank of a river. He turned his head again away from the light, covering his eyes, which burned a hole through his skull. He looked up and saw that he was underneath some sort of rotting bridge, and he scrambled into the shadows, recessing further and further back.

Finally, he could breathe again, and slowly opened his eyes. He took stock of his surroundings, and could tell right away that he was in London. He was, in fact, under the London Bridge, a bridge he could recognize anywhere. He looked up and saw the rotting wood underneath it, saw the huge, stone foundations on the other side, saw the parade of boats passing through the Thames. He recessed further, deeper underneath the bridge, and rats scurried to get out of his way. Deeper and darker in the shadows, he was beginning to feel more like himself.

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